


I Want to be Bandaged and Blessed

by orphan_account



Category: A Little Less Sixteen Candles a Little More "Touch Me" - Fall Out Boy (Song), Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Vampires, will add more tags as the story progresses, yknow how it be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 13:20:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Despite all of his physical down-sides, growing up all of his family and friends in the business told him that he could still be useful.That was what Patrick was thinking about right now. He had to forget the business cards and the vomit and the stakes because this was the real shit. He wasn't in the warehouse. He was kneeling on the top of an apartment building, cradling his dying friend in his arms.





	I Want to be Bandaged and Blessed

**Author's Note:**

> HEWWO TOPS AND BOTTOMS!!!!! its steph and its been SO long since ive put any of my writing on ao3, but i actually kinda like this thing im brewing up in my mind so heres the first chapter. the title is from one of pete's old blog posts.

_Stumph & Wentz  
Chicago’s #1 Vampire Extermination Service Since 1871._

Patrick ran his fingers against the rough grain of the poster board the business cards were printed on.

When Patrick inherited this job from his father, he expected it to be a lot more interesting. But he ended up spending most of his time sitting in a concrete warehouse, watching back footage and getting calls. Theoretically, he could be out actually hunting vampires with his friends, but he had asthma and they needed someone back at headquarters anyways. So fidgeting with business cards it was.

Even in Patrick’s youth, he knew he wasn't exactly cut out for this line of work. He was quite squeamish, thinking about stabbing someone in the chest (something you’d have to do often as a vampire hunter) made him want to throw up. He was weak; just sparring with other humans was hard, let alone against vampires with heightened senses and strength.

He thought about all of the times Andy had completely knocked him out while they were training. And how many times he had actually thrown up after seeing the mangled remains of vampires and their victims over footage.

Despite all of his physical down-sides, growing up all of his family and friends in the business told him that he could still be useful.

That was what Patrick was thinking about right now. He had to forget the business cards and the vomit and the stakes because this was the real shit. He wasn't in the warehouse. He was kneeling on the top of an apartment building, cradling his dying friend in his arms.

The wind was so harsh, he could feel his tears being stolen from his eyes faster than he could produce them. Pete’s hair was blowing up into Patrick’s face at this point, and he could see the same thing mirrored in Pete’s eyes as well, if you added the smudges of eyeliner and clumps of mascara running down his rosy cheeks. And all the blood.

Patrick could hear them climbing up the fire escapes, so he had to act quickly. He gathered what willpower was left inside his tiny body, flung the trapdoor back down into the building open, and scaled down the ladder with Pete still in his arms.

He jumped down into the hallway, and paused for a second as he absorbed the pain into his heels and up into his knees. Pete whimpered as the janky movements made him dizzy. Breathing heavily, he tore across the worn, carpeted floor, trying to find a place where he could hide and recuperate. In these moments, he tracked how fast his heart was beating and how regular Pete’s breathing was (He stopped the latter after learning that it was disturbingly irregular.)

He shook off his fear for Pete’s life as well as he could and he spotted an open door and made a stark left turn into it. He didn't care if it was somebody’s apartment, he just needed to get out of the hallway. He slammed the door shut, locked it, and took in his surroundings. He was in the laundry room. Thank god. It looked at bit like if someone took a picture of a regular room and turned the white-balance up way too much, but Patrick was just thankful to be behind a closed door.

Patrick breathed another heavy breath, and, as carefully as he could in his current state, set Pete down on the floor and propped him up against one of the washing machines. He looked like a fucking wreck: his hair was sticking up in odd places, exposing his forehead and makeup ruining by pain-induced tears and running-induced sweat.

“Pete?” He whispered. Pete wiggled a little, visibly uncomfortable.

“They got me good.” Pete whispered back. There was a throaty backdrop to his words, like he was straining to get them out.

“They sure did, brother.” Patrick said. And at that time, he just felt so lucky to still be breathing that he didn't bother checking Pete’s wounds.

**Author's Note:**

> dont think too hard about how they got on the top of a building it was for the drama. hmu on tumblr @ohnostalgia.


End file.
